The Probability of Miracles (23 page)

“Rats,” she said. “I don't think I can get this on right.” She was feeling drowsy from the Ativan and getting frustrated. Her moods were swinging all over the place. She was so gung-ho a minute ago, and now she just wanted to give up on this crazy idea.

“Maybe some duct tape,” Asher offered. “I think I have some upstairs.”

Cam followed Asher back up the ramp and through the sliding bookcase into the carriage house. He was neat for a guy, but not pathologically neat. He had hung his barn jacket on the back of the kitchen chair instead of hanging it right away in the closet, like Mr. Rogers. But he hadn't just thrown it on the couch.

The décor was very masculine, with leather furniture and Oriental rugs. A billiards table sat in the far corner. He slept in a vaulted loft space above the kitchen. As he fumbled through some kitchen drawers for the duct tape, Cam looked around. Sepia-toned photos of Asher's industrious ancestors hung on the wall behind the desk. The bearded men wore hats and suspenders and the proper ladies wore corsets and buns. Another photo was of a beautiful woman with long, curly hair to her waist. She was not corseted like the others. Her dress was a loose calico, and she sat, profile to the camera, looking down at her hands, a little like Whistler's mother. Someone had written
Olivia, 1896
in the bottom right-hand corner.

There was a tinge of shame in the way she wouldn't look into the camera, yet she was dignified, too, in the straight way she held her spine. Cam knew at once that this was the woman who had spent many years in the widow's walk.

Then she saw the photo of Asher with his mom. It was so brightly colored compared to the muted tones of the older photos that it was hard to miss. He wore an orange hooded sweatshirt, and his little brown-eyed face, already with the dimple, was looking through the rungs of a blue ladder as his mom held him from behind to help him get to the top of the slide. She was a very beautiful version of Elaine, with golden hair and Asher's glinting brown eyes. They looked happy. Glowing. Never guessing that the day would come when they would be forever apart.

“Where is your grandfather?” Cam asked.

“Dead,” he said.

“But I thought you said—”

“I need to assume he is dead.”

“Why couldn't Miracle Town save him?”

“Because he left, and he never came back. It happened to my mom and dad, too. They died on their way to Hawaii.”

“I know.”

Cam felt his burden all over again, the same leaden suit she had worn when she danced his life at Elaine's house. He was the keeper of the house, the keeper of the memories, and, aside from Elaine, the sole survivor. No wonder he didn't want to take some scholarship. Leaving this town for him would be another kind of death. Not the kind Cam was facing, but a death nonetheless.

“You have some serious abandonment issues, Slasher,” she said.

“You think?”

“I do. Years of therapy.” Cam winked.

“And what about you? What brings you to Miracle Town?”

“I'm dying,” Cam said.

Asher stood leaning on the counter with his right hand. He kept his head down for a minute, and Cam stared at the veins bulging from his forearm. He sighed and shook his head. Living here, he had obviously heard this story before. Cam wasn't the first pilgrim to come here seeking a miracle. “That's bad news for me and my abandonment issues, Ass Whisperer.”

“You've got to stop calling me that.”

“I will. I just need to work it out of my system.”

“Speaking of the ass,” Cam said, changing the subject, “did you find the duct tape yet? I want to perform this miracle right at dusk, so she can see him but not too clearly.” She could hear James Madison rustling around downstairs, probably getting restless and claustrophobic.

“Here you go.”

“Aren't you going to help me?” Cam asked.

“I have to shower. I have, um, someplace to be, and I don't want to smell like ass.”

Cam lost her breath for a second and waited for it to come back. The way he said it, Cam knew he was going to meet a girl.

It was difficult not to rush people through their dinners. Cam tried to slow herself down by chewing each mouthful twenty times. But mac 'n' cheese doesn't take much chewing, so she tried other things, like putting her fork down and taking a sip of water after every bite. When it looked like her mom and sister were done, she cleared the table and made a stack of dishes next to the sink. She checked the window while she was there to make sure James Madison hadn't strayed. He was still there, about thirty yards away, tied to a tree.

Cam had covered him in flour to make him white. He was looking pretty good if Cam did say so herself. She had molded the tinfoil of the horn into a swirly shape, attached it with the duct tape, and painted it white and gold. From a distance, James Madison looked like a squat unicorn.

“Whoa, Perry. You better get busy. That's a lot of dishes,” she said.

“What is going on, Martha Stewart?” her mom asked. “Why are you suddenly so invested in home economics?”

“No reason. It's a feng shui thing. I'm worried about the flow. Nothing worse than dirty dishes to clog up the flow of your space. Come on. I'll dry.”

“Mom, those drugs are changing her,” Perry said. “I think someone should be monitoring her, like, levels.”

It wasn't the drugs, though. Cam felt a cleanness inside her—a pureness of purpose. Something she hadn't felt since before the cancer attacked and the doctors counterattacked with their battery of chemicals. For so long she had been afraid to let anything matter. It was too dangerous. But this could matter. It would matter if Perry was happy.

Twenty minutes later, Perry had gotten through all the dishes and had begun on the pots without even noticing the obvious
unicorn
standing in the
woods
directly in front of her
face
!

“Look,” Cam finally had to say. “What is that?” God, did she have to do everything herself?

“I don't know,” said Perry, leaning her face closer to the window. Just then, James Madison made a little horsey move with his head and neck and pawed at the ground with one hoof. Cam would definitely reward him with extra sugar cubes for that display.
Good boy
, she thought.

“Is that a horn?” said Perry. “Mom!?”

“Oh, my God,” Cam said. “Go get your camera! Where is it?”

Cam had made sure to hide Perry's camera and phone between the cushions of the couch in the living room. While Perry searched for the camera, she ran outside toward the trees. She would have just enough time to take James Madison back into the tunnel, cross under the house, and bring him out onto the beach. Perry would never think to look for him there right away, so Cam could lead the donkey out onto the jetty. It made for a magical image, and he would be far enough away to still look like a unicorn.

James Madison was getting used to being led around. She practically got him to trot through the tunnel this time. The donkey seemed to appreciate having something to do besides stand around in the corral. “See how fun this can be if you work with me, ass,” Cam said.

She left him balancing on the rocks at the end of the jetty, leaving him with two small apples and a sugar cube.

Before running back inside, she took a moment to appreciate James Madison. He was quite the Method actor. He stood with his nose in the air and his golden horn sparkling in the sun. He gazed out to sea, as if searching for his lost ancestors. He looked both proud and mournful, the last of his kind on a magical quest. The water splashed gently around his hooves, and the colors of the sunset provided the perfect background. The scene looked straight out of the cheesy posters in Perry's bedroom. It was only missing a rainbow.

“I think I see him on the beach!” Cam yelled when she got back to the house.

Perry ran out to the lawn, camera in hand. By then the sun had sunk low enough in the sky that any photo she took would capture a shadowy silhouette. She clicked a few times. “I can't believe this! I told you it was true. This place is incredible.”

Cam stared at the tide, watching it rise and begin to splash over the donkey's ankles. Her sister was smiling as she happily clicked away. Cam found herself smiling, too.

“Whoa!” Perry cried.

Cam turned to see the water splashing around James Madison's knees. He shifted his feet a couple of times and rose up majestically onto his back legs. Then he circled his front hooves in the air, neighed, and leapt with a giant splash into the dark waters of the bay.

CAM DARTED TOWARD THE BEACH JUST AS ASHER STEPPED OUT OF HIS house, wearing an untucked white button-down, rolled-up khakis, and thick leather sandals. He smelled like fresh limes.

“Asher, help!” she cried as she climbed down the steep, twisting path to the beach.

“Help. Don't help. You give me mixed messages.” Asher sighed as he stuck his keys into his pocket and followed Cam to the edge of the lawn.

“Look!” Cam insisted, pointing out toward the bay. James Madison was floundering in the water, slowly making his way toward shore. The horn, thanks to the miracle of duct tape, had not fallen off. It stuck straight up and bobbed up and down like a buoy as James Madison struggled to keep his head above water.

“Oh, my God. Can donkeys swim?” Asher asked.

“How do I know?”

“You're the Ass Whisperer.”

“Stop. That is getting so old already,” Cam said, out of breath. Asher fell in behind her as they scrambled down the cliff. She almost lost her footing and slid a little bit on some gravelly sand before taking a final leap to the flat rocky ground of the beach.

She ran into the water until she was waist-deep and dove headfirst into the middle of an oncoming wave. The cold was paralyzing. She let the heavy wave slosh over her, and then the undertow pulled her out to sea, dangerously close to the rocks of the jetty.

She swam a few strokes before she reached James Madison and took him by the lead.

“Stay way out in front of his hooves or he'll kick you!” Asher yelled as he waded in up to his knees.

Cam gently tugged forward on the lead as she guided the donkey toward land, the cold water causing her legs to ache. He got his footing, and she walked him to the beach, where he shook himself out like a wet dog. His horn hung limply from his forehead and dangled in front of his left eye.

“Wow, that was kind of sexy,” said Asher. “Like Bray Watch.”

“You . . . are . . . hilarious,” Cam said, panting.

“Uh-oh,” Asher said.

Cam followed his gaze up to the edge of the lawn. Perry and Alicia were climbing down to the beach.

“I won't say I told you so,” Asher said. “I'll give you guys a minute. Open sesame.” The face of the cliff slid open, and he disappeared into the earth. “Good luck,” she heard him say before the rock slid closed again.

“Thanks, that's so generous of you.” Cam wrapped her arms around her body and tried to stop shivering.

“Campbell, what is going on?” asked Alicia as she got to the beach. She covered Cam with a towel, rubbing up and down on the sides of her arms to warm her up, like she did when Cam was little and had just gotten out of the bath.

“Um, nothing.” James Madison threw his nose in the air and hee-hawed. The horn flopped limply from side to side. The flour was glomming together from the salt water, exposing his dark fur in patches. “I wasn't sure that unicorns could swim, so I wanted to just, you know, save him or something.”

“That's a donkey,” her mom said flatly.

Perry stood with her arms folded across her waist. She made circles in the sand with the toe of her sneaker.

“It is?! Really? How weird. You know what? Maybe it's magic. I know. The water. The water turned the
unicorn . . .
into a donkey!! Can you believe that? Perry? Isn't that amazing?”

Perry walked away toward the cliff and pulled her phone from her pocket. “Never mind,” she said. “There's no unicorn. Just my sister being stupid.”

“I just—”

“You just what, Campbell?” Alicia asked.

“Well,” said Cam, “you guys got so excited by the prospect of miracles that I was just trying to make you happy. Help you believe . . . in them, I guess.”

“But you don't believe in them yourself because that would be beneath you, right?” Alicia's gaze was cold and hard.

“No. Not beneath me, exactly . . .”

“Well, that was very nice of you. Thanks.” Her mom had that dismissive tone, that “I give up” look in her eye. The one that could still make Cam feel desperately abandoned and alone, even though she was practically an adult.